A hand reached back holding a blue lollipop.

      “Stole it just for you,” said Professor Anemone. “It’s illegal to take candy from Hansel’s Haven, as you well know, but, given present circumstances, I think we all need to break a few rules.”

      Agatha lifted the lollipop from her teacher’s hand into her mouth and tasted its familiar blueberry tartness. Her first year she’d gotten detention from Professor Anemone for stealing one of these lollipops off the candied classroom walls in Hansel’s Haven (along with marshmallows, a hunk of gingerbread, and two bricks of fudge). Back then, she’d been the worst student at the School for Good and Evil. Now, three years later, she was returning to the school to lead it.

      “Do they know what’s happened?” Agatha asked, watching her teacher’s lemon-yellow hair dance in the wind. “The new students, I mean.”

      “The Storian began its retelling of The Lion and the Snake before you and Sophie left on your quest. That’s how we’ve stayed up-to-date on everything that’s happened since Rhian took the throne.”

      “But can’t we show the Storian’s tale to the rest of the kingdoms?” Agatha asked, adjusting Dovey’s bag on her arm, feeling Tedros’ jacket that she’d taken from Robin’s house cushioned around the crystal ball inside. “If we can make their rulers see that Rhian and the Snake are working together—”

      “The Storian’s tales reach other kingdoms only after The End is written, including your bookshops in Woods Beyond,” said her teacher. “And even if we could bring the Kingdom Council to the School Master’s tower, the Storian won’t allow anyone to look backwards in a fairy tale while it is writing one. Nor should we involve the Kingdom Council until we have clearer proof of Rhian’s plot, since their allegiance is to the new king. That said, Professor Manley has been monitoring the pen’s movements and our first years have been briefed on the story thus far.”

      “And they’re trained to fight?” Agatha pressed.

      “Fight? Goodness, no.”

      “But you said they’re my army!”

      “Agatha, they’ve been at school for less than a month. The Evergirls can barely produce passable smiles, the Nevers are hopeless with their Special Talents, and they’ve just had their fingerglows unlocked two days ago. There hasn’t even been a Trial by Tale. They’re certainly no army yet. But you’ll whip them into shape.”

      “Me? You want me to train them?” Agatha blurted. “But I’m not a teacher! Sophie can bluff being a Dean because, well, she can bluff anything, but not me—”

      “You’ll love the new Everboys. Charming little foxes.” Professor Anemone glanced back, her makeup dried out and cracking. “Especially the boys of Honor 52.”

      “Professor, I don’t even know these students!”

      “You know Camelot. You know the castle, you know its defenses, and most importantly, you know the false king who sits upon the throne,” said Professor Anemone. “You are far better equipped than any of the teachers to lead our students in this fight. Besides, until you complete your quest, you’re still an official student, and given the Storian is writing your tale, the teachers cannot interfere in it. Clarissa made that mistake and clearly paid the price.”

      Agatha shook her head. “But can the students even do basic spells? Will the Evers and Nevers work together? Have you told them what’s at stake—”

      “My dear, take advantage of the peace and quiet while you can,” said her teacher, steadying the stymph at a cruising altitude. “There won’t be much of either once we get to school.”

      Agatha exhaled through her nose. How could she relax until her friends were free? And how was she supposed to lead a school? A school full of students she’d never met? If she wasn’t so overwhelmed, she’d appreciate the irony: Sophie had been thrust at the head of Camelot, where Agatha was supposed to be queen, and now Agatha was expected to command the School for Good and Evil, where Sophie was supposed to be Dean. Agatha’s heart revved up, then sputtered, drained of adrenaline after her all-night visit to Sherwood Forest. She could feel her eyelids drooping . . . But with Dovey’s crystal ball slung on her shoulder, weighing her down, she didn’t dare fall asleep, for fear it would yank her overboard and drop her like a stone.

      Clutching Dovey’s bag tighter, Agatha scanned the landscape and spotted a golden castle ahead, thin spires clustered like organ pipes.

      Foxwood, she remembered. The oldest Ever kingdom.

      In front of the castle, the thick forest receded, giving way to Foxwood’s outer vales, with rows of cottages surrounding a tree-lined square. The pavilion was mostly deserted this early in the morning, except for a baker setting up his cart in front of a stone fountain. Wrapped around the fountain, Agatha could make out colorful banners hand-drawn by the kingdom’s children.

       So Long, So Long, the Snake is Gone!

       HAIL KING RHIAN, THE SNAKE SLAYER!

       Long Live Queen Sophie!

      As the stymph soared over increasingly lavish houses, closer to Foxwood castle, Agatha glimpsed three young kids in gold-foil Lion masks jousting with wooden swords as their father raked the yard of leaves. She’d seen the same thing in Gillikin: children idolizing the new King of Camelot as their hero. Disturbed, Agatha looked back up.

      The